


born in those demon days

by saunatonttu



Series: if we meet again [1]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Post-Albert's lvl 100 fate episode, Unfulfilled Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 02:39:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19242142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saunatonttu/pseuds/saunatonttu
Summary: He'd do it all again for Albert, if he had to. In a heartbeat.





	born in those demon days

The air on an island that was not Levin didn’t crackle with thunder and lightning, or at least not as often, and natural resources weren’t as scarce. These were the two things Yurius first observed of his new temporary home, and a part of him felt homesick already.

(It wasn’t Levin itself that he missed so ardently, however.)

The researcher in him was thrilled, though this new project he was partaking in wouldn’t be of any use to his homeland.

But, Yurius reminded himself as he rolled up his sleeves both metaphorically and in actuality, he had only done what needed to be done.

He had no room for regrets now.

*

Some part of him had suspected it all along, from the very moment Lyria had helped him regain his true form and Albert had taken him back to what constituted as normal life. He had had his doubts, but he had still gone along with Albert for the small chance at redemption and rebuilding the country from the ashes it had been reduced to.

He had known that life would not allow his crimes go unpunished.

Despite Albert’s steadfast gaze and even firmer words, Yurius had known it was too thoughtless, too wistful to wish for the peace to last. Even so, Albert’s almost childishly stubborn belief in things working out had caught him in its snare, and for a while Yurius had allowed himself to live in the mirage of normalcy. Albert had made it easy, as usual.

Now reflecting back on the days spent working with Albert put a smile on Yurius’ face and brought up nostalgia that was better off discarded but which he couldn’t simply toss aside. Having everything out in the open, with no secret except the one _little_ thing between them, had saved both of them.

Albert had given him an awful title as a payback for all the times Yurius had sarcastically called him _Thunderswift Lord_.

Albert had frowned and scolded him whenever Yurius fell too deep into guilt and self-deprecation.

He had been so stubborn about it _not_ having been Yurius’ fault – and even if it were, Albert told him, he was doing enough to repent, there was no need for more.

If it were anyone but him, the words would have come off as desperate, meaningless. But it _was_ Albert, and even if only for a moment, Yurius had been placated, his anxiety settled and attention brought back to where it belonged.

With someone as steadfast as Albert as his partner, how could he not have believed for those blissful few moments that things would be fine?

That he could remain by his side in Levin?

The hindsight brought not bitterness, but rather a sinking sensation of foolishness. But nothing removed the memory of the daily life bustling with tasks that he shared and discussed with Albert and Mina. Those days had watered the seed of thankfulness, made it grow in Yurius until he choked on it, until he had to make the choice to make himself the villain once more.

Albert, Yurius thought, was the hero Levin couldn’t part with.

And for Levin, Yurius would separate himself from Albert, to free him from the shackles of the masses’ hatred.

To make himself the villain to save Albert from certain death?

Really, the decision had been easy to make.

*

Still, the face Albert had made at him that day haunted Yurius’ mind, both asleep and awake.

 _This is our home,_ he had said, eyes frantic even if his voice was firm, _you can’t just destroy it!_ No one else would catch the fear in his tone but Yurius. Fear of losing him again. And so Albert had pleaded, _Yurius, help me fix this place._

_That is what we were born for, right?_

_…Right, Yurius?_ The uncertainty in his voice wasn’t because he doubted Yurius; it was because he doubted the lords of the kingdom, doubted (if only fleetingly) his own reasons for going so far for a kingdom that turned so easily against them. Albert’s eyes, earthly brown and barely visible beneath thick fringe of blond hair, burned into his, desperate to convey this.

 _I need you,_ they seemed to say, but that was where Albert was wrong.

It had always been Yurius that needed him more, and he used to loathe it as much as he resented himself.

Levin needed him more than it needed Yurius, too. Heroes were like that.

And Yurius just made the perfect villain to Albert’s hero story.

*

Yurius was a researcher, and while he had always intended to make use of his talent for Levin and its people, he now couldn’t. But the island that had welcomed him – far enough from Levin to give the illusion of safety for both himself and his friend – was a pleasant enough of a place Yurius didn’t mind using both his talent and knowledge for. So far in the outskirts of the skydom monsters were a daily nuisance, and not every village had a ruler protecting them.

Until Albert would come and find him again, Yurius might as well make himself useful elsewhere.

(For it was certain that his dear and beloved-by-all friend would figure him out and chase after him eventually, even if it might take a while. For Levin was the first priority; Yurius couldn’t resent Albert for that anymore.)

The unfamiliar air he breathed in wasn’t anything like Levin’s, and the island had renewable resources that Levin didn’t. The differences were stark, but that was what eased Yurius into the islanders’ lives.

If it felt like home at all, perhaps he would be miserable, too conscious of the many mistakes he had committed in the recent months and years. Perhaps he would recall the miserable, lonely childhood under his foster father’s care, of which the only highlight had been meeting Albert.

But it didn’t feel like Levin, and that made the difference. The weight on his shoulders grew lighter, and the lines that had begun to form around his eyes faded as the wounds inflicted by Albert healed completely little by little. The ache in his heart, however, did not.

Traveling with such wounds would have made Albert scold him, but there hadn’t been any other choice: remaining stagnant would only have brought death upon him, and that was no longer acceptable. The injuries weren’t severe, in any case – Albert always went much too easy on him, even when Yurius wasn’t without blame.

It was a rather amusing contradiction to Albert’s otherwise stern exterior.

Without Albert at his side, Yurius was prone to forgetfulness: he forgot to eat, to sleep, and to forgive himself.

No one was without a flaw, no?

Here he was greeted with smiles and friendliness that would have turned into sneers and pitchforks back home. Each morning, the lady working a morning shift at a local café inquired after his wellbeing as she poured a little too much sugar into his coffee. Each morning, the local postman passed by his house to bring him something from the council house regarding his research or something he had specifically requested himself.

It was a made-up life to replace the one he couldn’t go back to, but Yurius settled into it without too much effort, despite the lack of luxury that his former noble status brought with it.

It didn’t matter, though. All he really needed was a room that could constitute as a lab and something to investigate, and he was plenty happy to distract himself from any other thoughts that might come pester.

Even if he sometimes still expected to feel a hand press on his shoulder and to hear a familiar voice mutter, _It’s time for a break, Yurius._

*

Albert once gave him a fountain pen as a present, his face all wrinkled and serious as he offered it to Yurius.

 _You’re difficult to get presents for,_ he had complained, _but I thought you might actually use this. If the sword is my weapon, then this is yours._

The pen had traveled with Yurius to the island far from home, and there were times when Yurius found himself idly fiddling with it instead of writing down his hypotheses and conclusions. Often, he would smile as he recalled the face Albert had made: a rare expression of embarrassment that quickly morphed into satisfaction when Yurius accepted the gift without a hassle and put it into use almost immediately.

The memory made Yurius’ lips curl into a wistful smile whenever he thought of it, and then he would spend a little too long lingering in the warm fondness that thinking of the past Albert brought.

It wasn’t so much a distraction as it was motivation: Albert had always had a way of both tolerating and motivating him when he was at his worst or a little less than good. Now, the ghost of him did the same: the pen Yurius wielded like a weapon seemed to come alive under his fingertips and give him the words to write.

In his weakest moments, Yurius wondered if he had ever given him as much as Albert had given him.

But the soft look Albert had given Yurius when he had finally regained his original self after the possession came to an end… that look said more than words ever could.

 _Welcome back, old friend_.

Yurius didn’t know if there ever would be another welcome back for him anymore, but the memory of this was enough. Or so he told himself. Yurius had always been quite adept at lying to himself.

*

The monsters inhabiting the land weren’t all that terrifying when Yurius compared them to the one inside him, but they were certainly _a nuisance_. To the people, if not himself, at least. Though they did keep him from his research at times, which really ought to be a crime and thus Yurius treated them accordingly.

It wasn’t anything worth to thank him for, but the inhabitants of the island’s only village still thanked him profusely each time.

 _Julius-sama,_ they cheered for his false name, and for a passing moment Yurius would remember the people of his homeland, the jeering and the hatred in their eyes when they had discovered the truth. _Traitor!_ they had shouted, and… they weren’t wrong.

No, these people wouldn’t find out his sins, he decided. He could play pretend and make himself a hero for a no-name island, where news came slowly and left from even slower.

Still, every now and then, he would leave the island for the closest proper city to find out if any news from Levin had come. There never were any of those, but Yurius’ eyes would always find someone with blond hair that looked as soft and fluffy as a lamb’s wool, and it made his chest constrict with surprise every single time.

It never was Albert, but one day it would be.

Maybe Albert would be angry with him, for taking all the blame when Albert insisted he was guilty as well. Maybe he would clutch Yurius by the collar and reprimand him like that, his breath hot on Yurius’ face and eyes blazing as he let Yurius hear exactly what he thought about his little stunt.

Perhaps he would be mellow; perhaps he would squeeze Yurius’ elbow and whisper, _Don’t do that again, Yurius_ with the same feeling that sometimes made Yurius lose both his breath and mind around the other.

There never were any news about Levin, which wasn’t surprising, given how isolated Levin was despite his and Albert’s efforts at forging relations with other kingdoms.

Perhaps the point of these trips wasn’t searching for that – the point might well be simply walking down the streets in a city that didn’t know him and imagining a scenario where he could be together with his old friend again. Awfully melancholic of him, wasn’t it?

A little bit of play-pretend every now and then couldn’t hurt.

Perhaps he was more masochistic than he had imagined himself being.

*

Back on the island, the occasional thunderstorm passed by, bringing rain and wind along with darkened skies. Yurius liked going to the cliffs at the southside of the island during the time before the rain would reach but when the thunder was already audible and lightning flashing in the horizon.

These were the times he felt Albert’s presence in his life the strongest, even though the other was quite far away physically. The air itself seemed to smell like him.

“Thunderswift Lord,” he murmured to the darkened skies, “I do wonder how you fare.”

They couldn’t have executed him, what with the public’s opinion of him turning back to favorable so quickly. They saw Albert for what he was: a hero, loyal to his duty above all else.

In the past, Albert’s straightforward, unbending loyalty to the country bothered him and burned a wicked jealousy in his gut. But like so many things in his life, Yurius had carefully ignored it and put his focus elsewhere. The jealousy simmered, though, like so many of his other bitter feelings that he couldn’t put into words.

 _Pick me, won’t you_ , the nastiest part of him had thought, but it was no use as both their devotions weren’t for each other, not at that time at least. But a part of him had wished –

A part of him _still_ wished for the battle-hardened hand to hold and stroke his, for some sort of affirmation that the fondness residing in Yurius’ heart wasn’t unfounded and unreciprocated.

That fond affection soared at the first sight of lightning flashing in the distance, and Yurius’ lips quirked into a smile as he brushed hair behind his ear and settled comfortably on the cliffs. When the rumbling thunder followed, he closed his eyes, a long sigh dragging past his lips.

“Albert,” he said to himself, for his friend truly wasn’t there to listen, “I…”

But even like this, giving voice to his feelings was like pulling teeth.

 _Hiding things,_ Albert had once told him, _is one of your worst habits, old friend._ And he was right: Yurius couldn’t ever complain about Albert’s trust in him when he himself refused to show it. But was it Albert or himself that he didn’t trust enough? Now that was the question, and Yurius now had time to consider it as the thunder rolled over him, the sound as familiar as breathing to him.

He had always held back things that mattered with Albert. Insecurities, anger, _his whole childhood misery_. Most recently, his migraines that had grown more and more severe—

Even the things he wanted to tell Albert hardly came easily to him, asides from the warm, familiar _old friend_ that Albert also called him. It was _mutual_ , that one, and stepping outside the safe zone of familiar had become impossible after the first time Yurius had left Albert behind.

The second time didn’t make the impossible any more possible, and so Yurius closed his mouth and pursed his lips as he stared up at the approaching storm and clenched at the knee of his pants.

It didn’t matter either way, he thought, because he couldn’t return home anymore.

 _You’ll figure it out, won’t you, old friend?_ As if answering his thoughts, a flash of lightning struck across the dark horizon. Yurius’ mouth twitched upwards at that. _You know me well enough by now._

It was only when the rain came that Yurius would leave this spot, an odd and rare sense of peace within him as he hurried away from the storm.

*

Of the superficial things, he missed proper clothing. With no money save for what he made helping the town council with management and research, he could not afford his usual style. Perhaps for the best; he was technically in hiding, after all.

Even so, it was one of the things he couldn’t help missing, one thing from that cold-hearted foster father of his that Yurius hadn’t tried to rid himself of.

(He knew he was molded by that man, he _knew_ and loathed it from the bottom of his soul. But changing was so very difficult. Even Albert had noted it wryly: “You speak very much like your father, friend.”)

Commoner’s clothing was unfamiliar and uncomfortable, but it was only one more thing to adjust himself to, though the lack of refined colors was… disconcerting. Still, he would not complain.

(Even so, people whispered things about him: about a noble status his speech couldn’t hide, and of his straight posture gained from a rigid upbringing. It was both flattering and embarrassing: he thought himself better at masquerading.)

But there was one scarf he received from the villagers that he treasured. It was one he received for a particularly persistent monster’s extermination, for he had saved a child along the way and said child wished to compensate despite him shrugging the matter off as something anyone in their right sense of mind would do.

The child had knit it herself, her mother told him weeks later when he finally received it.

“She worried you might get cold when the winter arrives,” the mother added, and the child puffed her cheeks at her mother for embarrassing her.

“Ah.” The kindness of the gesture touched his heart, and so he leaned down to pat the girl’s hair, a few shades lighter than Albert’s and very much like the yellow of sunrise. Or a bolt of lightning. “Thank you, little miss.”

It was a lovely scarf, for the making of a nine-year-old.

When the first snow did come, Yurius wore the light-blue scarf as he took in the sight of white flakes dancing down from the high skies. It would stay, the people said, and Yurius silently dreaded winter as the cold was already burrowing into his bones.

But the kindness of these people would keep him warm.

Even though he really shouldn’t take anything for granted, given how everything had ended up back home.

But for now… he was warm, nose pinched as a snowflake fell on it, and kind people laughing around him in a not too different tone from Albert and his fellow sky knights back in Levin.

He wasn’t alone, and yet he was.

Quite strange.

*

The migraines didn’t disappear simply because he was away from Levin after managing to control the beast wrestling him for the rule of his body. They still came infrequently, pestering him like wounds that refused to heal, and some days he simply couldn’t go outside for fear of losing the fight.

 _I am better than this,_ he told himself time and time again, but his words didn’t carry as much weight in his mind as certain someone else’s would. Alone and away from home, self-confidence was harder to achieve, though a simple squeeze of his shoulder from Albert would do more than enough to dispel his unease.

Villagers left him homemade medicine and notes full of wishes for his wellbeing, and at his worst, Yurius laughed derisively at them. If only these people knew the things he had done in the past, then their tunes would be entirely different towards him.

He missed Albert, and these moments that kept him lying down only enforced the feeling, even though the separation was for the best for both Levin and Albert.

Perhaps it was good for him as well, Yurius thought. He’d been so dependent on Albert’s comfort to keep on going, though Albert would underestimate the effect his support had on him if Yurius were to express such. He’d always been that modest.

It was quite endearing, but frankly a little annoying as well.

 _Don’t you know how much you mean to me and my life,_ Yurius always wanted to ask but never managed. That level of honesty wasn’t in him yet.

Next time, though…

When Albert would come find him, perhaps then Yurius would be ready for a heart-to-heart then.

Ready to share the last secret he still kept from his dearest, oldest friend.

If only these damned migraines stopped pestering him by then.

*

They might not have a future anymore, but perhaps they can at least have a few precious moments, a coexistence not dependent on sharing the same space at the same time all the time.

Yurius would give up much for his country, perhaps even Albert if he must.

But it was and is as much for Albert’s sake as it was for Levin’s. Love for one’s country and love for one’s most important person had coincided and collided over time, but eventually had led to the decision that now kept him and Albert apart.

And even now, he didn’t regret it.

He would do it again, if he were forced into choosing between his own integrity and Albert’s safety and honor.

Some things just were more important than his own life.

**Author's Note:**

> Title's from "Demon Days" by Wild Wild Horses. The song itself inspired me a lot during the process of this fic. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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